Birdland
by No Satisfaction
Summary: AU. Inspector Fox gets a shocking surprise when an old flame returns. Meanwhile, a killer is on the loose. But as she stumbles further into her new case, she realizes she may have to choose between duty, or desire.
1. Prologue

**Bonjour! Hola! Guttentag! This is No Satisfaction here. It's been a loooong f***ing time since I last done anything. But alas, I have returned, hoping to claim your attention once again with my most ambitious, and probably my last (for a while), undertaking yet. Let me tell you though, you may think I won't update this one, no matter how awesome it is, but I assure you, I thought this one through. I have a stack of notes, ranging from character lists, to titles, to outlines of the actual chapters. I'm quite proud of how much I've done despite how much I must do yet. But don't worry, I will try to get as many chapters done before I must surrender my time to something else, and periodically space them out. I'm trying for a weekly update over a period of a couple of months. So please, enjoy!**

**Also, I better get plenty of reviews. LOTS and LOTS of reviews. Because if I'm given reason to think you don't care for my story, I'll probably stop it cold turkey. NOT!!!!**

**WARNING: A/U !!!!  
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Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Sly Cooper, nor the rights to any movies, books, and songs that have helped inspire this fic.**

_**

* * *

Birdland**_

**Prologue**

_"A hand in the pocket_

_Fingering the steel_

_The pistol weighed heavy_

_And his heart he could feel was beating_

_Beating, beating, beating_

_Oh my love, oh my love_

_Oh my love, oh my love"_

_Exit_ by U2

-The Joshua Tree

* * *

"State your name"

"My name is James Henry McSweeney," said the intimidating walrus. Had it not been the softness in his gruff voice and the repentant calmness in his eyes, most of the officers guarding him would have been scared. But they knew by his looks that he would not try to escape, even though he could kill all of them, exit the building with fifteen bullet wounds and walk to the nearest bar for a pint of beer.

"You are here because you have information pertaining to this case," the leading officer, a badger, spoke, his cigar clamped between his teeth bobbing up and down with each word as if it were part of his face.

"That depends Mister Barkley," McSweeney looked straight at whom he referred to as Barkley. "I'm almost useless without fresh air and free will."

"The arrangements for your release have been made," Barkley gestured assuredly as if he were a salesman. His demeanor returned to its 'no quarter' look as he commanded, "But we have twelve dead, and a link to two possible homicides. As you can see, I want this case closed as soon as possible, and you're the only person now who can do that."

"Interesting that you're talking about the coffin, but not the body," McSweeney grumbled, a twinge of disgust in his eye. Barkley has a lot of nerve, he thought. Barkley's face turned a vibrant red, but before he could counteract the convict's statement, McSweeney began. "A deal is a deal, I'll talk."

Everyone was silent for a moment, waiting for the large walrus to start talking. Instead, McSweeney remained silent, his eyes slowly looking over the room until his gaze fell upon an unspecific spot on the two-way mirror. He knew she was there, watching him, waiting for the truth.

"But I won't do it for just the freedom," McSweeney said nonchalantly.

Barkley, as well as several other officers, gave an aggravated sigh. "Then what the hell else are you doing it for?"

McSweeney's gaze fell back on that spot on the mirror. "Her." Barkley looked surprised. "You know who I'm talking about."

And so it was time, he realized. It was now time to spill the truth, to open the poisoned stream to the public, to people who had no business dabbling with these private matters. But he would tell them for her.

"I'll tell you everything, starting from the beginning. But I'm gonna tell you right now, it began way back before any of you could have imagined…"

**

* * *

Paris, France. January, 2000**

"Now I just want to remind everyone here what exactly we are doing," the dogmatic raccoon said, looking down the boardroom table at a series of unsavory faces. "As of today, when you so kindly walk out of my home, we will now be one…"

"Cut the bullshit Cooper!" one of them bellowed. "Get on with the rules."

"As a syndicate, everyone has a share. Everyone will know about the others' operations, at least if it will in any ways affect their own sanctity…"

"Just don't dare to double cross us Cooper!" a hollow metallic voice said. "You'd better know better that to do such an idiotic thing, and to us no less."

"Relax Metallo," Cooper smiled. "Connor Cooper is perhaps the most honest criminal you'll ever meet. I swear on my young Sly's grave."

"For the sake of you and your son, you better be right. But don't think I'm not above harming one for joking about my name. As I have warned before, you call me by my real name!"

Connor Cooper unnoticeably gulped. "Sure thing…Clockwerk."

* * *

**There you go. The introduction to my new story**. **Hope you enjoy**.


	2. Once Upon a Time

**I**

**Once Upon a Time**

_"So if you meet me_

_Have some courtesy_

_Have some sympathy, and some taste_

_Use your well-learned politesse_

_Or I'll lay your soul to waste_

_Pleased to meet you_

_Hoped you guessed my name_

_Nut what's puzzling you_

_Is the nature of my game"_

_Sympathy for the Devil _by The Rolling Stones

-Beggars Banquet album

**

* * *

Paris, France. April 2000**

Constable Carmelita Fox slammed her office door shut, checking that the latch had caught on. Satisfied, she continued with her new objective: get home. For the past few months, things had been hectic for her, though then again, wouldn't it be for anyone transferred from Interpol's base in Madrid to Paris.

It had been a real shock to her system when she first started work in Paris. The scenery had not been the only change as a result of this move, but also the people she worked with. Back in Madrid, her father had been the Madrid station's chief, and she had been on friendly terms with everybody, albeit there were still the few who thought she only made it to where she was thanks to her father's influence. But in Paris, City of Lights, she had to deal with sexist, moronic piss-ants who either hated her for no reason or wanted to see her clothes lying on their bedroom floor. Needless to say, she had to start making a reputation for herself.

For one, she had to draw the line when it came to sexual harassment. By the end of the month, she had claimed her first victim's jewels, and the resulting lawsuit, may it be brought up that it was a poor attempt at that, was found in her favor. From what she had last heard, righty had yet to return since her tirade.

Chief Barkley, on the other hand, was the biggest shock. Although it had been presented that Barkley was not a mean spirited jerk, but more like the head agent from that Navy-type CSI, the one with the goth-punk lab technician and the old British coroner; everyone had a love-hate relationship and seemed to vie for his acceptance as a good agent.

And now she was leaving that den of constant yelling and cigar smoke, all courtesy of Barkley, even though windows were commonly left open to allow for some circulation of fresh air, and was now retreating to her messy, but empty-feeling apartment across the park from her. She had been lucky enough to find one close enough to work to walk, but she knew that once winter hit, that short five minute walk would be turned into forever as her body would be numbed by the frigid temperatures. But that was thankfully several months away.

"Look out!"

It was all a blur, but Carmelita managed to catch a glimpse of a ringed tail as a bike sped past her, slamming into a bench. The rider flipped over the handlebars and landed on his back on the bench, followed by his bike, which proceeded to flip and land on top of him.

"Holy shit sir, are you alright" Carmelita ran up to the injured man.

"That depends," the rider said, shoving the bike off of him. He pulled his helmet off. "Am I staring at an angel?"

Carmelita blushed, although slightly. "Yeah, you're alright."

"Good to know," the bicyclist sighed happily. He held out his hand. "Sly Cooper"

Carmelita accordingly shook his hand. "Carmelita Fox."

"Such a pretty name," Sly said, a dreamy look gathering over his face, only to quickly be shaken off. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"It's okay," Carmelita shrugged. "The compliments I get from work are usually 'nice ass"

"Hard to top that, eh?"

Carmelita blushed again. "If you're fine, then I guess I will leave you to bike."

"Wait a tick!" Carmelita stopped, turning to look at Sly. "You make me crash, and suddenly you're gonna bail on me? Tsk, tsk, tsk."

"Then what should I do?"

"For starters, you could let me buy you a cup of coffee and maybe have your phone number?"

Carmelita smiled a smile she didn't think she'd ever showed; a devilish, playful smile. "Coffee would be great, I'd love to, but you'd have to work for that number."

* * *

**Present**

Carmelita watched the interrogation with solemn attention, absorbing every detail that left McSweeney's mouth. All the missing pieces in her case were finally falling in place.

"You might want to get some rest," a voice said.

Carmelita turned to see Winthorpe, her assistant, or 'paperwork weenie' as everyone called them, as inspectors all received one to help manage their paperwork during high profile cases. But in Winthorpe's case, people left out the 'paperwork'. "I'm fine Winthorpe, I just have a stomach ache. I just caught some bug that's bee going around."

"I meant you look tired," Winthorpe replied. He was among the few that held an utmost loyal respect for Carmelita in all of the Paris branch of Interpol.

"I don't need any," Carmelita growled, rubbing her stomach in futile hope that the aching would go away. "Besides, every morning I wake up sick to my stomach. It's no big deal."

**

* * *

Paris, France. May 2008**

The metro station was exceptionally crowded as Carmelita descended the steps down onto the subterranean platform. Holding her wallet in one hand and her metro pass in the other, she had been quick to replace the pass back in her wallet, however, in her haste she failed to catch the mistake she made of sticking the wallet in the shallow exterior pocket of her brown suede jacket.

As usual, she was in time for the train to pull in the station. Edging herself into the crowd, she waited for the doors to open, and the passengers to spill out, creating a massive hellhole not suitable for the claustrophobic. Normally, she would slide pass the oncoming horde, but this time, she slammed into somebody.

"I'm so sorry miss," the stranger said.

"It's okay," Carmelita replied, not expecting the stranger to hear her over the drone of the crowd. But she did bother to do a double take to make sure she wasn't seeing things, but by then the stranger had melted into the crowd.

---

Carmelita exited the bar in a fury. If her cousin didn't own the joint she would have been out on her arse the moment she realized she couldn't pay her bill. Instead her cousin spotted her, with the intent that she pay him back. Debt in any form, to Carmelita, was a sign of weak ability. She had never unnecessarily owed money to anyone, and she was not about to let that happen again. F***ing pockets, she thought after realizing that her wallet must have fallen out of her jacket.

"Didn't I say to you before that you need to stop putting money in your jacket pockets," Carmelita was startled. "After all, you always ended up losing it."

Carmelita turned around at the speaker. It surprised her that it was the same person as from the metro, but it had shocked her whom it really was. "Sly Cooper," she growled.

"Carmelita Fox," Sly Cooper smiled, walking up to her. His hand extended to her, revealing her missing wallet.

"Thanks for returning it," Carmelita smiled. And then she socked him right in the face.

**

* * *

**

**Present**

Carmelita barged into the bathroom stall, in time to double over the toilet and let her lunch loose. Not again, she thought.


	3. As the Rain Comes Down

**II**

**As the Rain Comes Down  
**

_"Somehow the wires have crossed_

_Communication's lost_

_Can't even get you on the telephone_

_Just got to shout about it_

_I'm losing you"_

_-I'm Losing You _by John Lennon

Double Fantasy

**

* * *

Paris, France. 2000**

A seemingly endless torrent of rain came down, the fat raindrops splattering on the windshield of the blue mustang as it passed through the open gates of a private residence. The driver groaned. There were several cars parked at the end of the driveway, inconsiderately positioned so as to block his path into the garage. "Assholes."

Sly Cooper opened up the door with a groan, reluctantly leaving his position behind the wheel of his mustang to enter the bleak coldness of the rain. It had been coming down hard, and had quickly soaked him within the fifty feet between him and the portico at the front of his home. Thankfully, the front door was open and he was quick to barge in. "Christ," he muttered under his breath.

"Back from our date are we?"

"Jesus! Don't do that Monty!" Sly yelled, startled.

"You know very well I have no control over your reactions, young Cooper."

Sly never liked Montague, always a prick he had concluded. Montague, or Monty by some, was one of Connor's friends and associates. The big ape always walked around in a suit reminiscent of a lab coat, and in no way had it looked good during the near twenty-giver-or-take-a-few-years Sly knew him.

"That's true, but you have control over how you set up my reactions!"

"Monty!" a third voice said. "Leave the boy alone. Don't you have some crazy ass experiments to work on?"

"Now Jim," Montague turned around to face the newcomer. "You damn well know that with Connor's business happenings I have nothing to do."

"Then go burn ants with a magnifying glass to dumbf***! That gave me hours of enjoyment back when I was at the orphanage."

"You know, harming animals are a serious sign of a possible serial killer," Monty retorted.

"There was dry weather and no women, what the hell was I suppose to do!" A large pink walrus emerged from the shadows. "Get the hell outta here!"

"Whatever," Montague sighed, leaving the foyer.

Jim McSweeney watched the ape disappear down a hall, and then turned to Sly. "Sly me boy, how the hell are ya!"

"Good, just freaking great," Sly chuckled; receiving a hug from the man he always viewed as a second father.

"Back from the date? Ho was she?"

"She was amazing as always…"

"You tow getting' serious?" Jim asked, following Sly down one of the hallways. "Just remember, you do 'er before you tie the not and both of you are gonna fry in hell."

"Jim, I'm already in hell every time I have to talk to Monty, and it's been like a month and a half. We may be getting serious, but it's not that serious." He turned into a room, which was apparently his.

"I'm just saying…"

"I get it Jim. By the way, who're the jags that blocked the garage?" Sly hung up his coat in his closet.

"Don't let them hear you say that junior," McSweeney warned. "Those are yer dad's new business partners. And from my meetings with them, they have absolutely no sense of humor."

"Well, then that's because they haven't met me," Sly smiled deviously, then bolted out his bedroom door.

"Shit," McSweeney sighed, then took off after him. "Sly! You really shouldn't bother them. They're in a meeting."

Sly paid very little attention. He paced himself down the hall, waiting for McSweeney to catch up to him. "Don't worry, I'll leave them alone. As soon as the prick with SUV moves it so I get the car in the garage."

"Cooper!" Montague yelled, grabbing Sly by the collar from behind a corner. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Meeting my dad's new partners."

"Well, I'm sure they are eager to meet you too, go right in," Montague opened up the door to Connor's study. "It's best not to keep them waiting."

Sly jerked Montague's hand off of his shirt, "Thank you." His voice more than hinted animosity. Jerking around, Sly entered the study.

"Son," Connor Cooper smiled, his teeth gleaming in the dimly lit room.

Sly hugged his father, ignoring the several pairs of angry eyes looking at him. "Hey dad, sorry to interrupt you. Just some jackass is blocking the garage with his crappy SUV." Connor's smile faltered for a moment over what his son had said.

A deep voice growled. "That would be my crappy SUV twerp." Connor Cooper sneered at the speaker.

"Then maybe you could move…" Sly stopped in mid sentence upon seeing the speaker stand up. "Well, someone's been pumping some iron…I'll give you my watch if you don't kill me."

"Listen pipsqueak…" the massively sized pit bull growled, but was cut off by Connor. "Mr. Muggshot! If you'd be so kind as to shut up and sit down then maybe we can continue with our business. Unless you'd like to have me cancel all our arrangements between me and your organization so you can continue to intimidate my son."

"Muggshot, sit your ass down," a frog sitting next to him warned. Muggshot gave in and sat down, leering at the young raccoon that had so quickly pissed him off.

Sly sat down next to his father on their side of the large conference table. "Everyone, as you may know, this is my son Sly," Connor introduced. "Sly, these fine…er…gentlemen and lady are my new business partners. The frog is Raleigh, and the big brute you just became acquainted to is Muggshot. Over there is Mz. Ruby and Panda King. And this fine ironclad man is…"

"It's Clockwerk," the iron owl spat. "Spare us the introductory bullshit and get down to brass tacks…"

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the generator, Sly thought, trying to push away the notion of how insane it was that he was facing a man who had replaced his body with soulless machinery as the rain beat down against the study's windows.

**

* * *

Paris, France, May 2008**

Carmelita Fox downed another glass of vodka, looking at her sushi meal. Behind her, the rain rushed down. For the past few hours she had been wandering around the city, finally hitting an Asian oriented café to eat. She took a look around. All the seats along the café were taken up, with the exception of one man who was finishing his meal. Behind her, in the rain, was a continuous stream of pedestrians going about their lives underneath a canopy of umbrellas. Man finished his meal, and left, leaving behind a vacant seat three people down from her. She took another swig of vodka. The server was motioning for someone who had been hanging out in the rain to come over and take a seat.

"I'll take four," the man said, tucking a wet newspaper he had been using as a makeshift umbrella under his arm. But the server said something in a foreign dialogue she couldn't quite understand. "No, four. Two-two, four!"

The server again repeated his incomprehensible comment. The man dropped his newspaper on the ground and took a seat. "And noodles." He opened his packet of disposable chopsticks while Carmelita nearly dropped hers. The two customers between her and the newcomer left, leaving enough space for her to make a remark without any awkwardness. "Of all the thousand little places to eat in this damn city you happen to choose this little joint here!"

Sly Cooper turned his head, gazing straight at her. There was no smile. "I should be saying the same thing to you seeing as my hotel is right in front of this place." He motioned backwards to a sign that said 'HOTEL BRECKER'.

"Well, at least I'm glad to know that at least this time you weren't stalking me" She popped a shrimp in her mouth, watching his food placed in front of him.

"Sushi," Sly said. "That's what one of my ex's called me. Cold fish."

"Wish it had been me," Carmelita grumbled, tossing her money on the counter. The server took it immediately. "But you left before I had a chance."

Sly turned to face her. "I never wanted to leave."

"Well you did. All I had was that damn ring and a note that with the cheesy 'it's not you, it's me' line written on it."

"It was me Carm. There was no fault with you. Everything that went wrong towards the end was my fault. I guess I wasn't strong enough to go on."

Carmelita analyzed his faced. Surely he was lying through his teeth. But one slight glance straight into his eyes told a different story. Her cold stare softened. There was no trace of a cocky smile that he wore earlier that day in front of the bar, although there was a slight discoloration on his cheek were she tried to wipe it off him. He wasn't lying. For sure there had to have been a serious reason for why he left, and she realized by looking at him as he was now that there must have been serious repercussions on his life.

Carm moved over to sit next to him. "Then explain yourself."

Sly looked at her, and gave her a weak smile. "The girl that called me cold fish was before I met you."

Carmelita's gaze faltered. He wasn't going to tell her.

---

Much of the city's nightly activity had calmed down, as thousands of men women and children settled down in their beds to dream the night's dream and wake up to a new day, hoping that tomorrow wouldn't be quite so wet. However, well past most people's bedtimes, it was still a torrential downpour.

This only made it easier for the figure running along the rooftops to go undetected. Not even the most astute viewer would have been able to pick him out among the rooftop machinery, pipes, and antennas. They wouldn't have spotted the firearms holstered beneath his arms. Most importantly, they would not have realized that he running towards the Paris offices of Interpol.


End file.
